Transparent
by cumberbabe1978
Summary: Based on the locker scene from the 26 second preview. Sherlolly. WARNING: Chapter 2 contains strong language and smut. Don't read unless 17/18 . Disclaimer: I own nothing! Chapter 1 I am missing an ellipses during speech. Thanks for reading :-) x
1. Chapter 1

A/N:

Based on the locker room (Or changing room depending on what you call it) and with little snippets here and there from both previous series. The rating might change. I apologise if you don't like it and it is poorly written this is my first fanfic. I own none of the characters; they all belong to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Both Molly and Sherlock are OOC, Molly more than Sherlock and slightly AU. Thank you for taking the time to read this. SM

**The night before:**

"Naughty Doctor Hooper. Keeping all those secrets from all of her friends." Moriarty's voice cackled, from the darkness. "What a naughty girl hiding Sherlock away from the world. He will never love you. He was only nice to you to get what he wanted. He used you but you still helped him. You didn't know he was using you, because you are ordinary; regular, just like he turned out to be. I O U, Doctor Hooper, I O U." Moriarty's voice dissipated along with the dream. Suddenly I woke up in a cold sweat, shaking and salty tears rolling down my face. I turned to look at my alarm clock, it stated 5:45am and I knew I had to get up; I wouldn't get back to sleep. Could you?

**Present day:**

I am thankful the end of my 18 hour shift is almost here; it had been a tedious day filled mostly with paperwork and filing, the worst parts of my job. There were only two autopsies and both were cancer patients, like my dad was. I loved my dad; he was all I had left, after Mum died. Ten years later my dad was diagnosed with stage 3 pancreatic carcinoma and he was given, at most, six months to live. Despite knowing he was going to die he was always cheerful, always, but when it got to the end; when he thought nobody could see him, he looked sad and scared. It didn't surprise me though, like Sherlock, I observe but I'm not as vocal as he is. I remember that Christmas eve, the one where he made me so sad and angry. When I retorted back he was surprised, hurt even, that almost everything he said was like twisting a bread knife in my chest and was killing me slowly. I saw through him, just like he saw through me, he just didn't know. He claimed I couldn't hide anything or lie to him but I did and still continue to do. I thought I didn't count because I was only useful to him and nothing more; I do count and I'm a friend but there's still one mystery to solve: why did I get the consulting detective's one and only apology? He told me I counted, every time he came back to me after "The Fall", but that was after the Christmas incident. I know he complimented me to get into the lab, so yes he did use me and I know that none of the compliments were true but I pretended I didn't know. I could have acted like knew, rather than a teenager with a stupid crush, but from the moment we met I knew that was the man I wanted to be with. I loved him because I could see through him; inside he was loyal, kind, protective and sad. Sadly he loved another, or so I thought at first, the only things he loved about her were that she was a puzzle and her brain. She was like him, only she fell for sentiment. When John told me she died I didn't believe him because Sherlock was sat at his microscope smirking, but that wasn't the only thing. Long black hair on his Belstaff, not curly, so not his, smudge of lipstick on his cheek, shade: good to be bad from MAC, but it was from him turning his head from a kiss on the lips and a text that came in ten minutes earlier which stated "We should have dinner later, IA xx." To which he replied "Already had it. SH", despite him being on a case and have not eaten anything.

After tidying up and ensuring all the paperwork is complete my shift is finally over; I can finally go back to Toby and have a well-deserved cuddle. I stood up swiftly, blood rushing to my head, making me dizzy but from the corner of my eye I saw a shadowed figure in a long coat. It couldn't be. It was my head, playing tricks on me. That was all. I stumbled off to the changing room, which was just down the corridor three doors on your right, and went straight to my locker. I twisted my lock 15, 1, 20, 12. With a click the door opened and as it swung open there he was, stood there.

"Sherlock," I uttered, quickly turning on my heel, to face him.

"Molly. How have you been keeping?" Sherlock asked politely.

"Fine, thank you, and you?" I replied, attempting not to

"Better now," He muttered, looking at his shoes.

"The web has disintegrated then. You've seen John." I stated, expecting him not to continue the convocation.

"Yes I have seen Jo… Wait, that was a statement not a question, but you haven't spoken to him, obviously. How do you know Doctor Hooper? Please enlighten me." Sherlock demanded, taking two steps forward so he loomed over me.

"You've got significant swelling around your jaw, not your nose, which means the person who punched you must have been a friend and not wanted to do much damage. You also have wet marks on your coat shoulder, but it hasn't been raining because the rest of your coat is dry and so is your hair; talking of hair there is a short, dark, ash blonde strand near where the wet patch is. The hair is the same shade as John's, so Mr Holmes, obviously you have seen him." I replied confidently, not stuttering once. Sherlock started clapping, not sarcastically, but genuinely and smiled, with that gorgeous crooked smile, like the one he has when he's got a new case or a new body part.

"You've never done that before, Molly." Sherlock muttered looking very impressed, but it was mixed with something else.

"Well we both cannot be consulting detectives now, can we?" I mumbled with a smile, looking at his eyes through my eyelashes.

"I guess not." He replied curtly, looking at me quizzically.

"Did John enjoy his braised beef cheek with red Russian kale and celeriac mash?" I asked, turning back to my locker.

"He didn't eat much of it, but I do have to admit it did look rather edible." Sherlock said, looking at me through the mirror.

"I've got the recipe if you want to come round." I said taking off my lab coat and hanging it up.

"I haven't eaten in a week; I deem that to be a worthy cause to devour something." Sherlock announced, his eyes burning bright.

"Great, I'll meet you outside then." I said, grinning.

"Why outside? We might as well walk together to get a taxi." Sherlock questioned.

"Because, Sherlock, I need to get changed. I smell of formaldehyde and decomposing cadavers." I stuttered, struggling to get my words out for the first time this evening. Sherlock looked confused, and then confusion turned to irritation.

"Fine, you can 'change', as you say, in front of me." Sherlock grumbled turning away from me and heading towards the door. Considering he was asexual, it wasn't like he was going to look and anyway why would he want to look when he's got 'The Woman'?

I started to remove my favourite cherry jumper, carefully, folding and placing it into my new True Blood tote bag. I then removed the pale blue shirt and black pencil skirt that was underneath; Sherlock tuned around to say something just as I had turned to pick up my skirt, revealing to him my fishnet stockings, beautiful royal blue silk and black lace garter belt with matching thong and bra accompanied with a pair of black 4 inch stilettoes with a red sole. I froze.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you everybody for your follows, favourites and reviews. Sorry I haven't written in a while I was watching Benedict film 'The Imitation Game' and then I got ill from standing in the rain, don't you just love England. As I said: I don't own Sherlock, or the characters, it all belongs to the BBC, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and Arthur Conan Doyle. For requests DM me or contact me via twitter cumberbabe1976 or tumblr cumberbabe1976.

Warning: Pure SMUT and strong language.

Molly's POV

**Continued from last chapter:**

Sherlock's pupils dilated, his once turquoise eyes were midnight and lusty. His breathing, rapid and heavy. He involuntary took three steps forward; his body was now pressed against mine, his arousal hard and hot against my hip. He crushed his lips again mine, his hands entangled in my hair. I ground against him pressing myself against his thick length, sliding my hands down his back and placing them in his back pockets; so I could pull him closer. He growled and pushed me against the lockers, the pain was nothing compared to the pleasure of Sherlock's lips and body against mine. His lips pulled away from mine and made their way down my neck, to my collar bone.

"Door?" I gasped as one of his hands moved towards my hips and stopped at my moist core.

"Locked." He replied against my jugular, giving it a nip before moving down to my breasts. He left a trail of wet kisses down my visage and cleavage. His nifty hands swiftly undid the clasp of my bra and moving to pull it off my shoulders. When it came off he threw it across the room with precision, it landing on a hook on the railing. I ran my hands down his chest, undoing each button as I went and pulling the shirt from his trousers. I placed my fingers inside his waist band, running them along the soft skin there, heat radiating from his erection. He groaned and thrusted into my touch. I removed my hand from the waistband and ran the nail of my index finger over his fly. He slid my thong out of the way and traced his fingers over my damp core. I undid the button on his trousers, sliding the fly down, tooth at a time. His finger suddenly entered me, causing me to moan in shock. His fingers pumped in and out at a punishing pace. I thrust to meet his touch, moaning every time he hit my G-spot.

"Oh, yes, fuck, yes. Rggghhhhh, harder Sherlock, faster, yes, yes, yes. Oh fuck yes, Sherlock." I screamed almost at breaking point. Per my instructions his pace increased and he added another digit. The coil started tightening in my lower abdomen, the sweet pressure building until it snapped. "Oh fuck Sherlock, fuckedy, fuck, fuck, fuck. Wow!" I moaned, my orgasm making my body shake. "Mr Holmes, my do you have talented fingers." I gasped, realising my hand was pumping his hard length in a tight grip, causing Sherlock to grit his teeth.

"I'm a quick learner." He replied, removing his fingers from my core.

"I see that Mr Holmes." I answered coyly.

"Doctor Hooper you seem to be stuck between a hard place and a hard place." Sherlock muttered into my ear, gently nibbling on my ear lobe.

"So I do Mr Holmes. We need to sort this 'situation' out." I whispered, tightening my grip on his erection slightly and giving a slow pump. I heard Sherlock's teeth grind and the hiss of him releasing a breath.

"My, my, Doctor Hooper, somebody's been a very naughty girl." Sherlock said, sexual innuendo just oozing from his voice.

"Then punish me, Sir." I replied innocently. Everything was a blur, he spun me around, and my hands were braced against the lockers. There was a tear as my thong was ripped clean off and probably flung in the direction of the bra.

"How many shall it be? Hmmm. One for hiding information, two for teasing and three because of what you did to me at Christmas. Shall we call it six?" He asked calmly, running his hands across the bare skin of my arse.

"Yes Sir." I said, without hesitation.

"One," SLAP "for not telling me you were as intelligent as me." He started

"Two, three" SLAP "for making me hard," SLAP "for making me think of you every minute I was away." I was moaning at this point, the heat of the slaps warming my body from the cool changing room. "Four, five, six," SLAP, SLAP, SLAP "For making me rock hard at Christmas. For making me insatiable. For making me love you." He pushed into me on "love" causing tears to spring to my eyes. His thrusts were not the punishing speed; it was slow and sweet, loving and calm. Every thrust joined us together, our hearts beating as one. We groaned in unison, every breath, and every second the pressure was building. The coil tightening.

"Sherlock, I'm close. Come with me." I moaned, turning my head to look at him.

"Always," he replied, leaning in and pressing his lips to mine for a passionate kiss, tongues dancing the argentine tango.

I was getting closer and so was Sherlock, his breathing laboured and his chant of "Molly," getting louder. A few seconds later we both came, both shouting each other's names in pleasure. Sherlock pulled out and turned me round to face him.

"Sherlock?" I asked quietly, attempting to stand up, almost falling but Sherlock's strong arms were there.

"Yes, Molly." He replies, looking nervous.

"I….I…I.. erm I love you, Sherlock and nothing will ever change that." I stuttered, looking straight into his eyes.

"I love you too Molly, I always have and I always will. As long as we both shall live." He replied taking me in his arms.

We redressed, and within minutes we were in a taxi and on our way home. Well 221b Baker Street, John was living with Mary now.

When we entered the property, Mrs Hudson didn't come out to greet us, like she used to. Sherlock simply strode upstairs, pulling me in tow.

He opened the black door into the living room, kind of cliché, I thought, seen it had more dead things in it than living. But tonight was different; the once messy room was transformed. The harsh lighting was now cosy and the room was surrounded in candles. I notice Debussy's Claire da Lune playing in the back ground, I turn to look where it's coming from but couldn't find the source. I turned back to Sherlock and to my shock he was on one knee in front of me.

"Sherlock…" I started but was interrupted.

"Molly, please let me speak and hear me. I love you, not Irene, not John. You. I can't explain how you make me feel, there's no words for the sensations. You are always there, no matter how many rude things I have said to you. I didn't deserve your help but you gave it to me; no questions asked. Molly you are my life, you were all I had for months, my only link to humanity. I no longer want to go through life alone, without someone by my side, a companion so to speak but not like John. I want you to be mine, for no other man to touch you. You clear my mind when I need it most, you are my alkaline to my acid. I love you Molly Mabel Hooper, will you make me the happiest man and answer a question? His voice faltered, I nodded, fearing what was coming, would it be some stupid question about toes.

"Molly Mabel Hooper will you do the honours of becoming my wife?"


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:**_

_**I can't apologise enough for leaving you all in suspense for over a week, I have been extraordinarily busy with all my work and have been up from 6am to 11pm everyday working. I also contracted flu, for some weird reason after having a cold a week earlier. As I have said I own nada, (nothing). Everything belongs to Mark Gatiss, Stephan Moffat, the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I'm so thankful for all your favourites, follows and reviews. For requests and prompts DM me on here, twitter ( cumberbabe1976) or tumblr (cumberbabe1976).I have also just started writing another fic, look out for it in about a week. Many Thanks SM.**_

Molly's POV

**Chapter 3:**

**Continued from last chapter:**

"Molly. I need an answer. Yes or no?" Sherlock asked, looking nervous. I kneeled, looking into his piercing eyes, ensuring that what he had said was genuine and not just another way of getting to the freezer full of immaculate body parts.

"Sherlock, I…I…I love you with all my heart. But…" I stuttered, just to wind him up, I tricked him for years, I might as well have some fun with it.

"Molly, please. No buts, I love YOU. How clear do I have to make it I love you, for Christ's sake when will you understand I love you, I have loved you since Christmas, when I made you feel so terrible. It was only because I didn't want to admit my feelings, Irene did nothing, she was a puzzle but you Doctor Hooper are a labyrinth; I'm lost in you. I want you to be mine, and mine only. Please will you just answer my question." Sherlock was almost angry now, his calm façade shattering. The once heartless detective had finally found a heart and the love in his eyes blew me away, how could I resist him, the man of my dreams, the only man to ever understand the human mind better than me.

"Sherlock, if I answer your question, promise me one thing." I gasped a tear rolling down my cheek.

"Anything. Always." He whispered, cupping my cheek and brushing the tear away with his thumb.

"No matter how things end here tonight don't ever start on drugs again." I croaked, looking at my hand entwined in his. Sherlock looked like he had just been shot in the chest, his pale skin turned white and his eyes hardened as he nodded. "Then Mister Sherlock Holmes, nothing in the world would give me as much pleasure as becoming your wife." I cried, not wanting to look at him in case he brushed me away. His squeezed my hand and I looked up at him, the hardness in his eyes gone, replaced with a look of love and adoration.

"Oh, Molly." He murmured against my lips tears falling down his face. "My Molly," He pressed soft kisses to my lips muttering 'thank you' in between them all.

"Sherlock, "I gasped, as he nibbled at my ear lobe. Suddenly he stopped, standing up in an instant; pulling me up with him. The candles, one by one had started to die off, I took that as a signal and tugged at Sherlock's hand, leading him towards his bedroom. That night we would make love until the early hours and then fall asleep exhausted in each other's arms.

**Six Months Later:**

"Sherlock William Holmes, do you take Molly Mabel Hooper to be your lawful wedded wife?"

"I do." Sherlock said, placing an intricate white gold wedding band on my finger.

"Molly Mabel Hooper, do you take Sherlock William Holmes to be your lawful wedded husband?"

"I do." I replied, sliding the matching ring to mine onto his left ring finger.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride!" The priest declared. Sherlock didn't hesitate to seal the deal; as soon as the last word left the Vicar's mouth Sherlock's lips were on mine. It was a kiss full of passion and love, nothing could match this feeling. The high of love was more potent than any drug. The highs that the 'cooks' produce was inferior; to Sherlock's shock the love between us prevented his boredom, he started taking less cases and just started experimenting in the lab with whatever tissue sample he had pried away from the freezer, without me noticing.

Over the past six months, we made a pact: no sex until the wedding night. It was difficult for us both, no release and just pent up sexual frustration would cause mood swings. At the beginning it was easy, stolen kisses here and there, until two months in and these stolen kisses were turning into passionate snogs and these snogs would almost lead to sex. Luckily Sherlock had the self-control of a monk; I on the other hand was struggling. We had even agreed to go without satisfying the needs ourselves, what an idiotic idea that was. But today was the day. Finally. After 182 days without any sexual release we were ready. His eyes were black with the thinnest strip of icy blue around the outside, his skin flushed and his pulse raging. Sadly that had to wait; we had a reception to deal with.

**Two Hours Later:**

"Congratulations you both, thank God Sherlock has finally realised that you are the perfect woman for him." John said, still riding the high from his marriage four months earlier.

"Yes, thank you John." Sherlock said coolly, attempting to usher the last of the guests away.

"Alright Sherlock, I know you are not exactly experienced in the whole matters of the heart debacle but that is no excuse to treat your best friend like…. Oh… I get it… Right come on Mary we have to get back." John said finally getting at why Sherlock was being so odd.

"It was nice to see you all, hope to see you again soon." Mary said walking down the corridor and towards the exit, hand in hand with John. Thankfully the other guests had gone whilst John was saying goodbye.

"Now Doctor Holmes… What to do with you, hmmm…" Sherlock said playfully, slipping an arm around my waist and leading us towards the Honeymoon Suite.

"I can think of a few ideas…" I replied coyly, pulling him into the room and shutting the door behind us.

"I love you Molly." Sherlock said, now taking charge and tugging me along to the bedroom.

"I love you too Sherlock." I replied. Falling onto the soft Queen sized bed I pulled him with me and within minutes we were lost in each other. The sweet reality of it all was astounding, he had chosen me.

Our wedding night was the best night in my whole entire life, including the night when he said I counted. To each other we were the most important things in the solar system and not even the shadow of the web could threaten us. That night we decided that John Watson was no longer needed at 221b Baker Street and that I would be a much better assistant to Mr Holmes than anybody else, just in case he got bored…


End file.
